


Three Steps to Fall

by headupheelsdown



Category: Bones (TV)
Genre: Attachment, Attraction, B&B, F/M, Lust
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-10-15 11:00:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17527502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/headupheelsdown/pseuds/headupheelsdown
Summary: After years of explicating her feelings with biological, anthropological, and chemical reasons, Temperance Brennan experiences and recognizes the science of love firsthand through attraction, lust, and attachment. Set in S1 during “The Man in the Bear”. B&B.





	1. Attraction

Temperance Brennan stretched in her chair, reaching her arms his above her head. She wiggled her fingers and rolled her wrists, envisioning the intricacies of her circulatory system sending blood flow to the overworked areas. Glancing at the clock, she noted that she had been typing for over three hours. Progress on her second book was smooth, and she had no shortage of ideas. Her day in bone storage was fruitful, bearing identification of the skeleton and time to brainstorm.

“You’re still here?” 

Brennan startled at the sound, looking up quickly. Angela appeared at the door, wearing a pair of black workout pants and green tank top. She leaned against the door frame and gave Brennan an accusatory stare. 

“Writing,” Brennan answered shortly, gesturing to her computer and board of sticky notes in turn. She knew that Angela would assume she was doing something work related, and her coquettish friend frowned on Brennan using her free time in such a manner.  “Forget something?”

Angela patted her paisley printed laptop case slung over her shoulder in answer. “Are you ready to leave?” 

Brennan nodded and packed up. Her friend waited patiently at the door, but she knew that Angela was making sure that she didn’t spend the night in her office. The pair walked out of the lab together, making their way through the rose gardens outside of the Jeffersonian. The night was clear and cool, warranting taking the long way to the parking lot. 

“What’s Agent Andy Lister up to now?” Angela asked, referring to the male character from Brennan’s first novel.

Brennan laughed. “Seeing as though he is fictional…,” she started to answer, but Angela cut her off with a hard look. The anthropologist sighed before continuing. “Catching a serial killer. The killer is overly confident, sending a letter to the FBI with the location of the body after each murder. Dr. Reichs works with him to find the evidence that the killer has to have inevitably left.” The brunette to her left nodded as she spoke, showing her interest. 

“Well and good sweetie, but what about the sexual dynamite that is waiting to explode between them?” Angela asked, punctuating her sentence with a hip thrust.

Brennan rolled her light blue eyes. “It’s not a romance novel. The relationship between Kathy and Andy is a subplot to the science.”

Angela did not look like she was amused. “I know you believe that, but that is not why your book is a best seller. The sequel should show more of their relationship. If only there was a place for you to get inspiration to write those kinds of scenes…,” she purposefully trialed off, letting Brennan catch her intimation.

“You are implying that the relationship between Agent Andy and Dr. Reichs is based on my partnership with Booth,” she said. Since the first book came out, all of her friends and colleagues were making false parallels between themselves and her characters. She was aware that there was a general consensus that Agent Andy was based on Booth. He thought so as well, but that said more for his ego than it did for his proper analysis of fictional characters.

“C’mon, you can admit it to your best friend,” Angela coaxed, “I won’t tell.” She pouted her lips and managed to make her large brown eyes appear sad.

Brennan ignored the look. Her car was in sight, only a few more paces away. “Goodnight, Ange. See you tomorrow,” she said, successfully avoiding the question.

“Friends share secrets. That’s what makes us close!” Angela called out after her, laughing heartily. 

 

\-----

 

The bullpen of the Hoover building was quiet the following morning, only a few agents at their desks. It was a stark contrast to the normal bustle of activity, but the early hour was the likely culprit. Booth had called about an hour ago, altering her to a new case, and told her to pack for a trip. She was not thrilled at being loaned to the FBI, but a quick phone call to Dr. Goodman confirmed that there was no way out of it. If she wanted to continue her involvement in the field, she had to go.

Brennan opened the door of Booth’s office, trailing her small rolling luggage. He was seated behind his desk, bent over a stiff manilla file. “Mornin’, Bones,” he greeted and gestured to a prepared cup of coffee for her. She let go of her bag to reach for the styrofoam cup. “Here’s your copy. I haven’t gotten a chance to read over much of it yet,” he said, passing her a matching file. He took a sip from his own coffee, probably supersaturated with sugar. He turned his attention back to the file. His brown eyes moved across the page as he read. She tried to do the same, scanning over the page. 

Her eyes wandered up from the words, drawn back to the man across from her. Booth was relaxed, his shoulders free of tension. His back must be feeling better. Brennan refocused her eyes on the text in front of her, but a few lines later she looked up again. Booth was still reading, dressed for a day working the case. Leather holster straps crossed over his white dress shirt, accentuating the wide breadth of his shoulders. His tie was dark blue. One of his large hands turned the page, and he looked up, locking eyes with her. He was in a surprisingly chipper mood. Maybe Dr. Goodman warned him.

“I don’t read at genius speed. Give me a second to catch up before we leave,” he said, giving her his signature charm smile before continuing to read. 

Brennan felt her cheeks heat as blood rushed to the capillaries just under her skin. Thankfully, he was still looking down, and therefore did not notice. This wasn’t the first time that she had been distracted by his remarkable physicality. Maybe there was something to Angela’s theory. She had written Agent Andy Lister as an attractive man. Brennan wrote him as strong and physical, capable of intimidating the most violent criminals. Granted, she had written her character with blonde hair, but those dark eyes were the same, capable of radiating kindness as easily as ferocity. 

The similarities didn’t end there. She had given her fictional character a military background like her partner, only swapping the Navy SEALs for Army Rangers. Booth’s overprotective alpha male nature was echoed in Andy. In an effort to cater to her predominantly female audience, her characters were often surrounded by sexual tension, and she would be remiss to say that wasn’t commonplace with Booth. 

Even if Angela was right in her assumption, that didn’t lead to any larger conclusion. Booth was attractive; science supported his desirability. Anthropology would suggest that his capability to provide protection would make a man like Booth attractive to females. Biologically speaking, his secondary sex characteristics like low body fat percentage, square jaw, and angular facial features illustrated his testosterone levels and aided in sexual selection. The mathematical symmetry of his face fit within the golden ratio, a measure of attractiveness. These same qualities were present in quintessential fictional male characters in theatre and literature. But, when she thought about how she would write Booth- how she would describe his face, how she would explain his physique- she couldn’t help but think that her readers would be highly satisfied, much more than with Agent Andy.

“So, you ready to go see the real deal? Our flight to Aurora leaves in two hours,” Booth said, interrupting her thoughts and snapping her back to reality. 

“Yes,” she lied, just now looking at the pictures attached to the files. A poached black bear had been found with a human hand in it’s stomach during the necropsy. The local medical doctor had determined that the hand had been severed by a saw before being eaten by the bear. Judging by the striae and kerf marks visible in the photo, he was correct, suggesting murder.

Booth nodded and reached under his desk to grab a black duffel bag. He passed her the file he had been holding in order to grab her suitcase. Rather than rolling it as its design intended, he grabbed it by the handle. His large hand barely fit under the strap, making her think of the mnemonic for remembering the bones of the wrist.  _ Some Lovers Try Positions That They Can’t Handle.  _ Scaphoid, lunate, triquetrum, pisiform, trapezium, trapezoid, capitate, hamate. She continued to name the bones of the phalanges to refocus her thoughts, touching each one in turn with her thumb.

Her phone rang as they walked through the parking lot. Brennan answered, hearing the familiar voice of Angela. “This is the first time I am at the office before you. Are you in a ditch somewhere?” Brennan laughed and stopped walking, letting Booth go ahead. She assured her friend and explained the situation.

“Sweetie, this is a sign from the universe to get away from the office,” Angela said.

“We are solving a murder, not having sex on a field trip,” Brennan answered.

Angela laughed suddenly. “Doesn’t psychology have a few theories about how you jumped to that conclusion?” 

“Psychology is a soft science,” Brennan mumbled.

“Sure, sweetie,” she spoke knowingly, “Just make sure you don’t spare any juicy details when you tell me all about it.”

“Goodbye, Angela.” Brennan shook her head as she walked the rest of the way. 

 

\-----

 

Booth pulled into the motel parking lot and cut the engine. He had retrieved both of their bags from the trunk of the rental when he realized that Brennan still hadn’t gotten out. He knocked on her window and raised his eyebrow quizzically. 

She cracked the door open to speak to him. “This is where we are staying?” He nodded. “Do you know the likelihood of bed bugs in roadside motels?”

He shrugged. “FBI budget, Bones.”

“Budget? You have a budget?”

She had to be kidding, but Booth knew that she wasn’t one to yank his chain. “Of course. You don't?”

“No. They reimburse me after I give them the receipts,” she answered. She looked honestly confused, and Booth shook his head. 

“Then it’s on you.” Brennan nodded in agreement and pulled out her cell phone. As she made phone calls, Booth put their bags back in the trunk and let the motel know that they were cancelling their reservation. When he got back in the car, Brennan was ending a call. 

“There’s a room at the Evergreen Lodge. I got directions,” she said. 

“A room?” Booth swallowed thickly.

“Yes. A suite actually,” she answered, “There should be plenty of room for us both. There is also a terrace. Turn left up here.”

Booth did as he was told. She really didn’t see any implication in sharing a room. He wondered how such a smart person could be so oblivious. The lodge wasn’t far away, and they arrived shortly. When they checked in, the receptionist automatically assumed they were a couple. She was caught off guard when Booth asked if there were any extra rooms. There weren’t, something about peak hiking season. 

Brennan questioned him in the elevator, still not grasping why he would want his own room. “I just want us to be comfortable, that’s all,” he answered, dodging.

She seemed to chew on his answer for a moment before replying. “I understand. You can sleep in the bed because of your back issues. I can sleep on the pull out couch.”

Booth resisted the urge to bang his head against the elevator wall.She didn’t understand in the slightest. As much as she infuriated him, he was enjoying their new partnership. After ten cases together, they were solving at a faster rate than any other agents at the bureau. Her brain was a force to be reckoned with, and he was learning how it worked. Well, how she worked. He could never memorize as many textbooks as she had, but he knew people. 

She drove him crazy in more than one arena. Her light blue eyes were stunning, and she wielded her beauty unknowingly. The fact that she didn’t do it on purpose made it worse. The way she swung her hips as she walked down the hall, the way she curled her slender fingers around the door handle, and the way she moistened her lips before she spoke with a quick dart of her tongue were all effortless. Her lips moved again, and Booth realized belatedly that she had asked him a question.

“You’re meeting the doctor at eight and I’ll go find the sheriff,” he answered after she repeated herself. He dropped their bags and walked the room. It was large and mostly empty space. The spacious bathroom was immediately to the left and the bed occupied the center of the room. Booth looked away quickly, stepping through the sitting area and onto the terrace. He sat on a brown wicker chair, looking out into the forest. Everything was wet. It made the trees seem greener and the soil a dark, rich brown in the low light. Sunset was streaming between the trees.

Minutes later, he heard the sliding door open. Brennan sat in the chair beside him. Booth noticed that she had changed into cotton shorts and a tank top as she folded her legs underneath her. She exhaled loudly, gazing into the forest just as he was. Neither of them spoke, only the soft sounds of nature around them. Booth rested his head on his palm and yawned.

When he woke, the sky was darker, but not black, and he was alone. He scrubbed his face with his hands and got up. Booth quietly slid the door open, creeping into the room. True to her word, he saw Brennan had pulled out the sofa and was asleep on the thin mattress. After watching her for just a little too long, he showered and went to bed.


	2. Secrets

Brennan crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back into the leather seat. It had been a frustrating case. With the joint efforts of her team, they knew the victim was Adam Langer and there was evidence of cannibalism. Hodgins found plant data that could help narrow down the location of the rest of the remains. Booth spoke to Sheriff Scutter and found that one other girl had gone missing recently, possibly pointing to a serial killer. A local park ranger, Sherman, helped them track the bear’s path before its death. He was helpful up until they discovered he was a poacher and he took off running in the woods. Booth had not been able to catch him, so the case was temporarily stalled.

Booth suddenly announced that they were going to a local bar, pulling into a parking lot. She had an inkling this was an attempt to regain his alpha male demeanor after losing the suspect. When she saw him carefully tousle his hair and undo the top two buttons on his shirt, she was certain. He caught her looking, and she raised an eyebrow at his actions.

“We’re going to a bar, not a meeting. C’mere,” he bent towards her over the console. She leaned towards him, curious. Booth tugged at her hair to pull it free from the ponytail holder. He fluffed it around her face and then fingered the collar of her jaket. “Take this off,” he said and she eyed him suspiciously, “Trust me.”

Brennan shrugged out of her cargo jacket, revealing the dark blue tank top underneath. Booth raked his gaze over her then nodded, apparently satisfied. He got out of the car and opened her door. As she expected, his hand landed on the small of her back as they walked in.

Before they had a chance to get to the bar to order drinks, members of the community bombarded them. Some she had met before, like Dr. Rigby, Dr. Randall, and Charlie, but most were other residents of the small town that had heard the rumors. Booth dismissed all of their questions with increasing agitation. After a few curt replies, he pushed his way through them, grabbing Brennan’s hand and towing her along. Normally, Brennan would berate him for this blatant act, but she was just as annoyed with the questions and eager to escape. 

“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all,” Booth mumbled when they reached the bar. He leaned on the counter. It seemed the only person whose attention they weren’t getting was the bartender’s.

Brennan scooted up beside Booth. When the bartender saw her, he came right over. “We could use some time outside of the hotel room,” Brennan said. The bartender’s eyes widened slightly at her words. Booth quickly placed their drink orders and he walked away. 

“Good point, Bones.” Booth chuckled. “A night out on the town,” he said and turned to put his back against the bar. 

Out of the corner of her eye, Brennan watched Booth survey the room. He kept clenching his jaw, making his masseter and temporalis muscles twitch. She turned her head to try and see what was bothering him, but nothing looked out of the ordinary. The drink glasses hit the wood behind her. Booth grabbed his and started drinking at a much faster pace than usual. 

Brennan noticed his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, the small motion made more prominent by the unbuttoned top of his blue shirt. His eyes caught her looking. “Why does a bar require your shirt to be less securely fastened?”

“It’s a look,” he explained, “It shows that I’m relaxed and ready for a good time.”

“And what does my outfit portray?” Brennan smoothed the front of her tank top with her hands and looked at him expectedly.

Booth’s eyes surveyed her body before slowly coming back to her eyes. “Relaxed,” he said, “and ready for a good time.”

She could swear that his voice was a few octaves lower, but didn’t have time to address it or his repetitive answer. Dr. Rigby appeared at her side, his hand outstretched. He asked for a dance and she accepted. His focus was not on dancing. Instead, he asked her too many questions about the case. When the song ended, she bid him goodnight and steered away from his other inquiries. 

Charlie met her before she was off the dancefloor. She obliged to a song with him. Charlie also had the top of his shirt unbuttoned, but his was like that every time she had seen him at the mailing office. The stitching on the cuff of his sleeve was pulled tight across his bicep near where her hand was. His shirt was too small. As they spoke about her tendency to lead when dancing, his eyes kept watching her lips. Several times, she looked over his shoulder and found Booth watching her. He finished his drink and pushed off the bar. 

Charlie was reluctant but compliant when Booth tapped him on the shoulder. Brennan fit into his arms easily. She had one arm on his shoulder and another holding his hand as they danced. His other hand stayed securely on her lower back, the same place as when he walked with her. It seemed to fit there, some little space carved out just the right size. 

After a few steps, she noticed that he was leading, easily maneuvering around the other couples on the dancefloor. “Where did you learn how to dance?”

“My mother taught me,” he said, his voice surprisingly soft. He smiled at her. She felt his hand leave her lower back and he lead her into a spin. Finishing her twirl, he pulled her back in to him. Both of her arms wound around his neck. “She always said it would come in handy with the ladies.” He winked. 

Brennan laughed. “Are you trying to seduce me?”

Both of his hands slid across her body in answer, finding places on her hips and pulling her flush against his body. “That depends,” he whispered dangerously close to her ear, “Is it working?”

Brennan pulled away from him enough to look him in the eyes. “Oh, I see. If I say no, then you can pass it off as if you weren’t trying and it won't count as a failure.” As she spoke, her fingers played with the short hairs on the back of his neck. 

“And if you say yes?” he prodded.

“Then I’ve given you a signal to advance without you having to climb a tree.”

“I think you mean go out on a limb,” Booth corrected. His goofy smile was radiant. “Good analysis. But, you’re basing it off of the assumption that I actually need you to answer.”

“Don’t you?” The song must have ended at some point because a different one was playing over the speakers now.

“Nope. You know, I can read people.”

His words made her nervous. She didn't quite understand how it worked, how he could tell so much about a person without evidence, but she had seen him do it accurately many times. Now, those dark eyes were looking at her, cataloguing her responses. Brennan attributed his ability to ‘read people’ to him noticing minute markers in the sympathetic nervous system like pupil dilation, increased heart rate, and dry mouth. He was probably noticing those signs in her now.  It was part of an involuntary response. Simply a function of the body. Hormones excreted from the hypothalamus and other regions of her brain causing several chemical reactions. Dopamine and norepinephrine contributed to the euphoric, energetic feeling of attraction. Her biology released the neurotransmitters, synapsing in her brain to cause the desired responses in her nervous system. That was why the flush was in her cheeks and her pulse rate had quickened. Nothing more.

“It’s alright,” Booth said when she still hadn’t spoken. She watched his lips move rather than risking a look into his eyes. “I’d rather hear you admit it.” Suddenly, her body was cold and he was walking back to the bar. 

\-----

Sheriff Scutter elbowed his way in between Booth and Brennan at the bar. He was out of uniform, and his demeanor had changed as well. He wrapped an arm around each of their shoulders, pulling both of them in towards his sweaty body. His breath smelled of alcohol. “Our crime fighting team! Feds and state!"

“How ‘bout we solve the case first, huh?” Booth pried off the Sheriff's arm. 

Sheriff Scutter waved off his comment and pulled Brennan close to him again. “Another round? On me!” He waved to get the bartender’s attention, and Booth fought back a laugh as he watched Brennan use the opportunity to escape his reach.

“Maybe next time!” Brennan said quickly. She was at Booth’s side, bumping her hip into his.

He caught her hint, loud and clear. “Yeah, we were just leaving.”

They escaped quickly, bursting out the door before the Sheriff knew what was happening. Booth reached for her as they jetted to the rental car, running hand in hand. Brennan slammed the car door shut and collapsed into her seat full of laughter. It was contagious. 

“Why did we run?” Booth asked once his laughter subsided.

“Well,” Brennan started, giggling once before continuing, “Alcohol consumption affects the nervous system leading to heightened mood and increased risk taking often leading to socially unacceptable behavior."

Booth stared at her, mildly impressed that she could still spill out that brainy mumbo jumbo after so many drinks. “Really, Bones?”

She shrugged her shoulders comically with her arms out and palms facing upwards. It made Booth start laughing again.

The drive back to Evergreen Lodge was short and the mood stayed light. However, Booth was aware of every passing mile and how it brought them closer to their single hotel room. Without more alcohol to keep the buzz going, he quickly began to get nervous. The air in the car felt thick.

In the elevator, the cramped space had the same effect as the car. Booth felt like his collar was too tight, but when he reached up, he was reminded that he had already unbuttoned it before entering the bar. If Brennan was bothered, she wasn’t showing it. She stayed within an arm's reach of him, close enough to touch but not venturing to do so. Her shoulders were relaxed, but she didn’t make much eye contact with him. 

He knew that his words at the bar threw her off of her game. Booth had watched the mild panic reach her eyes when he reminded her that he was good at reading people. She was like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Her body had stiffened under his hands, she couldn’t take her eyes off of his lips, and she didn’t regain her composure until she had two more drinks. Brennan had a thing for him.

When they entered the hotel room, she went straight to the bathroom without saying anything. Booth worried that he had pushed her too far. For such an intelligent woman who loved knowledge, she was very sensitive of any information about herself. Brennan had to come to her own conclusions. 

He removed his shoes, socks, and button down, leaving him in jeans and a white undershirt. Booth pulled two bottles of water from the mini fridge. In case he did make her uncomfortable, he provided an easy distraction by turning on the tv. 

A few minutes later, she exited the bathroom in her pajamas. He watched her silently as she moved across the room to sit on the foot of the bed. The news channel displayed the picture of the recently missing woman, Ann Noyes, along with the phone number for the tip line. 

“Statistically, you’d imagine we would solve more cases because of tip line information. These alerts run constantly.” 

Booth shook his head. “People don’t like to volunteer the good stuff, Bones.”

“The good stuff?” She turned on the bed, facing him and folding her feet under her.

“Right. The juicy bits. The secrets. The lies. Most people only call in little bits of information. You’ve gotta press them,” he pushed the palms of his hands together, “for the stuff that solves crimes.” 

“The average person is keeping thirteen secrets.” Brennan studied him, tilting her head to one side slightly. “How many do you have?”

“I’ll tell you one of mine if you tell me one of yours.” Booth wiggled his eyebrows, expecting her to shy from the offer. 

“I’m familiar with this type of exchange.” She continued studying him. He could see her thinking. Her blue eyes were tracing his body, making him feel like one of the skeletons on her table. 

“So?” He prodded. “You’ll bite?” Her brows furrowed as she interpreted his colloquialism. Booth loved throwing them out there just to watch her decipher the words into something she understood. 

“Yes.” She paused to scoot along the comforter, sitting right near his elbow. “I find you sexually attractive.”

Booth hid his chuckle behind a grin. Of course she would think that was a secret. “I already knew that,” he said.

“How? I have not told you previously.”

“Maybe not as squinty as you just put it,” he said, “but you’ve told me in other ways.” She looked confused. “Remember our first case together?” He continued after she nodded. “You asked if I was single. After I fired you, you pointed out that that meant we could have sex. We kissed outside the pool hall!” He laughed heartily. “You wouldn’t do that if you thought I was ugly.”

Brennan thought for a minute before nodding. “Your evidence is anecdotal, but since I was there, I also know it’s factual.”

“There’s also when we were dancing tonight,” he continued, enjoying the flush that was darkening her cheeks. “And how you’ve been staring at my biceps since you came out of the bathroom.”

“I get your point, Booth.” Her words held no force. “But, all of your evidence also points to you finding me sexually attractive.”

“It does. I do.” He reached out a hand and set it on her knee. “You’re beautiful, Bones. I’ve never thought otherwise.” He saw her throat move as she swallowed. Doing the same, he was reminded of the alcohol they had both consumed earlier in the night and switched to a lighter tone. “So, I’d understand if you wanted to share the bed tonight.” He winked. 

Brennan set her hand on top of his. She smiled slyly before getting up. “Goodnight, Booth.”


End file.
